Girls’ Training Scheme - Part 2

From Blushes 19

Back in his room he had his jobs for her. Skivvying. Hoovering the floor, dusting, polishing some brass. Julie hated housework and in her own home with an indulgent mother had virtually never done any. Now she was doing it for Mr Milbank, like it or not. And in fact when you had just had the cane and you could easily imagine yourself getting it again at the merest whim of Mr Milbank, well, it didn’t seem too bad.

Her tormentor was never far away. Ever ready to splat his big hand in on that suffering bottom if he thought he could detect any slacking — or maybe simply because he felt like it. Weakly Julie thought of Uncle Albert. If he did come she could plead with him. Maybe he could take her away, maybe he didn’t realise quite what this place and this Mr Milbank were like. Uncle Albert had said he would come very soon.

Mr Milbank finally called a halt to the skivvying and told Julie to make some tea. It seemed this GTS business was basically an excuse to get a free servant, a maid, who you were free to viciously cane whenever you felt like it. Don’t think about it, Julie told herself, or she just might burst into tears and at 19 you would rather not do that.

She was permitted to have some tea with Mr Milbank, in his sitting room, but she wasn’t sure she really wanted it. Not sitting there like she was, next to him on his settee, with her skirt still tucked up round her waist. With Mr Milbank’s big hand coming firmly down on her bare thigh above the stocking top. That hand which kept viciously smacking her poor bum, and which wielded that fiendish cane…

Mr Milbank started on a lecture about discipline and training for girls. How desirable it was and how lucky Julie was to have this opportunity. She kept silent. If she said anything like what she was thinking it would certainly get her another caning immediately. Mr Milbank’s hand was squeezing and stroking her thigh and also fiddling with the suspender strap. As his homily continued his fingers seemed to become curious about the suspender fastener. Suddenly, as his fingers found the catch, the taut elastic was released.

At that instant there was the sound of the front door bell. Mr Milbank gave a squeeze to Julie’s upper thigh and raised his eyebrows. Yes, she was to go and open the door to whoever it was — Julie knew this because she had had to do it in the morning. Naturally, because wasn’t she just the maid for the next 42 days, completely at his beck and call?

She got to her feet and made to refasten the loose suspender. ‘Did I tell you to do that, young woman?’ Mr Milbank barked. ‘Go to the door, at once.’

At the front door she could think of nothing except her appearance before this stranger: her skirt round her waist and one suspender dangling loose. She opened the door and, flushing, said ‘Come in, please,’ but she forgot the other thing. The man followed her into the sitting room: Mr Milbank’s age, bald with glasses.

‘Ah Henry, there you are. I was expecting you of course. Have a seat. Oh but first have a look at my new pupil, Julie Atkins: just beginning her training. I trust she produced a ladylike curtsey when she opened the door?’

This other man looked at Julie and pursed his lips. Slowly, smiling slightly, he shook his head. Julie swallowed. No, she hadn’t. Although Mr Milbank had drummed it into her in a morning session. ‘When you open the door, Julie, you will always curtsey. Have you got that?’

She had accompanied her ‘Yes Mr Milbank’ with a sharp squeal because to drive the message home his cane had whistled smartly in across her calves. But at the door Julie had been thinking only about what she looked like.

‘No, Stanley, I am afraid she did not,’ said this man Henry. Grinning, he reached out to the front suspender that was still fastened. Finger and thumb pulled it away from the soft flesh — several inches — and then let go. Julie yelped out as it catapulted back against her thigh like a hornet’s sting.

Mr Milbank’s eyes narrowed, his mouth became a thin line. She felt a sudden empty void in her stomach. It had been no time at all since that last dreadful caning, but… there wasn’t much doubt…

‘Take your knickers down and place your hands on your head,’ pronounced Mr Milbank.

Pulse now racing again, Julie’s hands fumbled. Yes, it was coming all right. She dragged them down, from a bottom that still bore those recent cane marks. Her hands went up, on her head. ‘Come here,’ said Mr Milbank. ‘Close to Mr Kingway. Stand so that he can see your bum.’

Julie stood in front of Mr Kingway who was now seated. Her bottom was very close to his face, after sharp urgings from the horrible Mr Milbank. Mr Kingway took hold of it, juggling a red-striped cheek.

‘You’re doing a very good job. Stanley, I can see that. There was certainly no sign of a curtsey, though.’

‘I can see I’m going to have to drive that message home,’ said Mr Milbank. ‘A bit more firmly.’

Mr Kingway did some more playing about with Julie’s bottom. It was highly unpleasant but all she could think of was the cane. Shortly Mr Milbank told her to go and stand by the doorway. ‘Keep your hands on your head and keep perfectly still.’

At least this Henry Kingway’s hand wasn’t crawling over her bum now. The two men were still eating cakes and drinking their tea.

‘I suppose, ah, she’ll get a little chastisement for that omission, Stanley?’

‘Right after we’ve had our tea,’ Mr Milbank declared. ‘And not so little either. It could be I’m not whacking her hard enough. It could perhaps be she regards this as some kind of holiday camp.’

Julie, shaking at the knees, heard Mr Kingway go on to inquire what position Mr Milbank put her in for a caning. ‘Over the desk, eh?’ the visitor pondered. ‘Mmm… why not up on the desk; kneeling on her hands and knees? I’ve tried that with a couple of my girls and it seems they don’t like that position at all.’

Julie could have told him that she didn’t like it bent over the desk at all. It was diabolical. But she didn’t. If you thought about it, though, kneeling up on the desk was if possible even worse. She didn’t want to think about it, but Julie found that now he’d said it, it wouldn’t go out of her head. The more she thought about it the more… she felt herself begin to sweat.

The two dreadful men eventually stopped feeding themselves and got up. Mr Milbank repeated that Julie was not to move and Mr Kingway had to push by her to get through the doorway. As he did so he squeezed one of the big boobs that were thrust provocatively out by her raised arms. ‘Just going to get a little something for you, Julie. He went out to his car.

He returned a few minutes later. In the meantime Julie had been smacked hard on her bottom by Mr Milbank and turned round so that now she stood facing out into the hallway. Facing Mr Kingway as he came back. He was smiling. Just then Mr Milbank’s cat Moggy walked by. ‘What a lovely pussy,’ declared Henry Kingway. His hand reached out — and it was not to Moggy.

With a great effort Julie kept her hands on her head. Still smiling and still holding what his hand had reached out for. Mr Kingway’s other hand held something up. A two-tongued stiff leather strap.

‘Yes; let’s try it up on the table,’ said Mr Kingway not much later. ‘Give her something soft to kneel on. I mean we are not sadists, are we?’ A cushion was placed on one side of the desk. Julie was being told to get up on it, kneel on the cushion and put her hands and forearms down on the other end of the desk.

Could this really be happening?

Mr Kingway’s quite bland voice: ‘Why don’t I give her a bit of a warming up first with my strap, Stanley; then you finish her off with the cane?’

‘Finish her off’ would no doubt be accurate. Julie felt sick — from being up in this awful position and maybe even more from what was to come. A frantic, frightened little moan escaped her full lips. How could this be happening. How could this be a place with Government approval? If they could do these things to you when you hadn’t done anything. If only Uncle Albert would come and…

CRACK!…

Henry Kingway, a gleam in his eyes, had laid in with the first splat of that board-hard leather. On top of the recent caning it felt like it was red hot. With a high-pitched yelp Julie’s body swung forward. Stanley Milbank grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back upright. The fearsome strap cracked in again on Julie’s once more out-thrust buttocks.